


Christmas Pancakes

by HoneyBeeez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Christmas!!!, Cooking, I love them so much, M/M, Pancakes, TEAM BONDING- CHRISTMAS VERSION!!!!!!, kunimi is there i swear he just doesnt talk. im not even sure if he wakes up tbh, kyoutani likes to cook/bake and decides to showcase that, sleep overs, team shenanigans, this honestly is so fluffy it could probably not be particularly this ship but i dont care, yahaba likes christmas waaaaaay too much to be invited to a christmas party. let alone a sleep over.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBeeez/pseuds/HoneyBeeez
Summary: A party-turned-sleep-over doesn't seem too out of the ordinary, but it is when there's an entire team sleeping in the same place on Christmas. What could go wrong?~a request from kyouhabs on tumblr!~





	Christmas Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oikawas_Aliens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oikawas_Aliens/gifts).



> looK I LIKE PANCAKES OKAY AND I HOPE CHRISTMAS PANCAKES ARE A THING  
> Thank you kyouhabs for the request!! I really liked writing this a lot!! <3

Christmas morning starts with pale light streaming through nearly-gossamer curtains, a foot stomping harshly into his stomach, and a shrieking voice mercilessly announcing the holiday to everyone in earshot.

Which just happens to be the entirety of Seijou’s volleyball team.

What started out as a joke turned out to be a full-scale Christmas party at Oikawa’s house (since his family was officially spending the holiday at a vacation home and the captain decided the opportunity was too golden to go to waste), which turned out to be a cheesy-Christmas-movie-marathon, which turned out to be slumber party.

The only reason why Kyoutani stayed was because it was too late (and cold) by the time the last shitty movie ended (and because walking miles in the late-night-early-morning chill sounded more like torture than anything else). Sure, it wasn’t ideal sleeping on discarded couch cushions and sharing a blanket with Kunimi and Watari, but it sufficed.

The shriek was from Yahaba, Kyoutani deduced when he could finally take a deep breath again.

“ _Merry Christmas!_ ” Yahaba still shouts, running around Oikawa’s house like he owns the place, turning on every set of string lights he could, including the Christmas tree, which shines like a busy city’s lights seen from thousands of feet in the air.

“We get it!” Matsukawa grunts, pulling a spare blanket over his head, like he was hiding himself from the noise and the brightness of the room all in one go.

“No, you really don’t!” Yahaba argues, grinning from ear-to-ear and, to be honest, Kyoutani has never seen him that happy before.

“Yahaba, it’s five in the morning, calm down for a bit, will you?” Iwaizumi’s sleep-heavy voice sounds, head peeking out of a sleeping bag perched on an armchair. Yahaba has the dignity to look a little bit ashamed of himself.

“Sorry,” he mutters, deflating, and the silence of the morning envelopes them all once more, the Christmas lights still glittering.

Kyoutani can’t seem to fall back asleep though. The ache for rest left his muscles mere seconds after he woke, and even though his stomach hurt in a distinct foot-shape, he can’t help sitting up and slipping away from Kunimi and Watari like they were never there in the first place.

“Oh, you’re up,” he hears Yahaba mutter from across the room. Kyoutani thinks he’s sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree, but he can’t be too sure. He doesn’t look over there, anyways. He just heads to the kitchen. It’s not long until he hears footsteps pad in after him. “What are you doing?” Yahaba asks as Kyoutani throws the pantry doors wide open.

“Looking,” Kyoutani says, like its nothing, as he pulls out a bottle of maple syrup and two boxes of pancake mix stowed away at the back of the pantry. He piles them onto the granite kitchen countertops before turning towards the fridge.

“Pancakes?” Yahaba pipes up, peering at the box like it was foreign. Kyoutani pulls out a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, and some rouge chocolate chips and puts them alongside the other ingredients. “You know how to cook?”

“Making them from scratch would be harder,” Kyoutani admits, not _really_ answering the question as he lurks through the other cabinets for bowls and a pan and a spatula because he just put two and two together. “You stepped on me.”

“I did?” It sounds like the setter has to force his voice to not come out as a scream. “Sorry… I just… wasn’t paying attention, I guess.”

“S’fine,” Kyoutani slurs, waving it off as he washes his hands. “You gonna help?”

“It’ll explode.”

“They’re pancakes.”

“They’ll still explode.”

“Fine,” Kyoutani punctuates, rolling his eyes, before measuring out the mix and plopping it into the bowl he found. Yahaba watches him, intrigued, as he carefully pours in the other ingredients and laughs when Kyoutani pours in a _bit_ too much chocolate chips and sucks a ragged breath of distaste in through his teeth.

“Sweet tooth?” Yahaba jokes, stifling the rest of his chortling with his hand. Kyoutani shoots him a glare and, resignedly, stirs in the chocolate chips.

“Find the cooking spray,” Kyoutani mutters, and Yahaba startles, like he wasn’t expecting to be asked to do anything. After the initial second of shock, though, he nods and roots through the many cabinets lining the kitchen walls. He throws them open unceremoniously, scans the shelves hastily, and shuts the door without preamble. Kyoutani’s resolved, in his mind, to use butter instead, but after the fourth cabinet, Yahaba lets out a little squeak of success and pulls out a can.

“Here,” Yahaba says, tossing the can halfway across the kitchen to Kyoutani, who drops the spoon he’s holding to catch it deftly. It’s almost like the movement is choreographed, and a painfully slow moment of the awkward knowledge of that passes.

Kyoutani shakes it off, rolling his shoulders as he gives the pancake batter a few extra stirs before leaving it on the counter and moving towards the stove. He grabs the pan he found earlier, uncaps the cooking spray, and coats its metal surface with the oil before putting it on a burner. Kyoutani turns, grabbing the batter bowl as he does so, and gives Yahaba a look, lips quirking in an unintentional smile.

“Stay back, you’ll make it explode.”

“Oh, haha,” Yahaba deadpans back, sticking his tongue out. Kyoutani tries to swallow the chuckle that tickles the back of his throat.

Kyoutani moves like he’s done all this before, or more like, he’s done this so many times its become second-nature, like breathing. He pours the batter into the pan neatly, waits _just_ the right amount of time before taking the spatula he found and flips the pancakes perfectly, doesn’t even flinch when Yahaba takes out a plate and holds in close so Kyoutani can stack them when they’re done.

After the plate is filled with three towering stacks of chocolate chip pancakes, Kyoutani tips the rest of the batter out onto the pan, the resulting pancake about twice the size of the other ones. Yahaba stares as he treats this one just like the others, takes a different plate, and flops it on.

“Why did you do that?” Yahaba asks, shifting his gaze from the pancake to Kyoutani like this whole thing was a rouse and was leading up to murder. Kyoutani shoves the plate towards him, which makes him flinch.

“Should I make another batch or not?” Kyoutani asks, not phased, and Yahaba takes the plate from him. “I didn’t poison them, you saw me make them!” he adds when he notes the suspicious expression on Yahaba’s face.

“I know that!” Yahaba snaps, and thankfully they’re a bit more self-aware than they appear and keep their voices down. “I just don’t know why I have to eat a giant pancake…” his voice trails off before he locks eyes with Kyoutani. “Is this a test?”

“You might as well be the taste-tester if you’re not doing anything else,” Kyoutani says nonchalantly. Yahaba glares at him.

“You’re lucky I’m hungry right now.”

“Just tell me if I should make more, idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot!”

Yahaba grabs the syrup from off the marble countertop and pouring just enough so the syrup oozed off the sides of the pancake. Kyoutani roots through a drawer, finds a fork, and holds it out to him, which Yahaba gratefully accepts. He takes a bite, and Kyoutani watches him carefully.

“Well?” Kyoutani can’t help the genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Hell yeah…” Yahaba barely manages to breathe out before going in for another bite.

It’s nearly impossible for Kyoutani to hold in his laugh, so he doesn’t. It hits him hard, like a foot crashing onto his stomach, leaving him breathless in a completely different way, in a way that makes his cheeks hurt from smiling so much and the corners of his eyes damp. He clutches the edges of the counters to keep him upright, so curled into himself that he can almost rest his forehead onto the cool marble, and doesn’t notice Yahaba’s half-assed reproaches or the rest of the team slowly trickling into the kitchen.

“You broke him…” someone says almost disinterestedly, and Kyoutani, finally hearing everyone else over his laughter, heaves in a shaky breath and tries to pull himself together.

“Why are there pancakes?”

“ _Merry Christmas!_ ” Yahaba tries to shout, again, but his voice is muffled behind a bite he just took.

“What’s going on?”

Kyoutani blinks, wiping the stray tears away as he looked at his team. It was strange to even think of them as such, but he couldn’t help it, not now, with the knot in his side and their mixture of confusion, amusement, and hunger fixed on both him and the pancakes he had already made.

“Kyoutani, did you make these?” Hanamaki asks, leaning closer to the plate brimming full of pancakes and eyeing him with quirked eyebrows.

“Uh,” Kyoutani starts, hesitating, but Yahaba answers for him.

“He did! And they’re _fucking incredible_!” he asserts, sparkles practically lighting up his eyes. Kyoutani punches his arm hard enough to make the setter sway a bit, but Yahaba just sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

“I’ll make some more but… merry Christmas?” Kyoutani offers, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice as he turns back to the ingredients strewn about to make another batch.

He ignores the scuffle that ensues as everyone tries to get their fill, and pretends that he doesn’t hear the disbelief that practically echoes around the house as his teammates start eating. He would _like_ to pretend that Yahaba wasn’t sticking by his side, and instead was there because there was nowhere else to stand in the kitchen, but that was pretty much impossible.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Yahaba says, and Kyoutani notes the impressed inflection in his voice.

“It’s pretty simple,” Kyoutani says, shrugging, pouring in the right amount of chocolate chips into the batter this time. “I didn’t think everyone would like them so much,” he admits, and Yahaba rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.

“They’re _incredible_ , shut up,” Yahaba scolds playfully, leaning in close. Kyoutani feels like he can hardly breathe, their faces so close that their noses were practically touching. “Merry Christmas,” Yahaba sighs, a shit-eating grin blossoming across his face as he grabs the bag and dumps the rest of the chocolate chips into the pancake batter.

**Author's Note:**

> *sweats*  
> please tell me what you think!  
> i hope you all stay safe during the holidays, and every day, and know that you're not alone, and that I'm here for you if you ever need me!  
> love yall!  
> -HB


End file.
